Facing Monsters
by Noxbait
Summary: Tag to 13.22 Exodus. Facing monsters was the only way to defeat them. They didn't go away on their own. **Please note warning inside.**


****As a heads up, I do want to put a warning on this one. There is nothing explicit or detailed in this fic, but there is one section containing brief, very vague implied confirmation of past trauma (sexual abuse/rape). I just don't want anyone to be caught off guard. ****

 **Fits into the end of 13.22 Exodus and then fills in some gaps thereafter. It also fits in with my other S13 tags, "Ashes to Oblivion" and "Never Again" although it isn't necessary to have read those first.**

 **Picks up when the survivors are all through the rift and Dean is waiting for Sam to come through after him.**

* * *

 _ **Facing Monsters**_

* * *

 _Don't you dare...don't you dare...don't you dare…_

The words played on repeat over and over in Dean's head as he stared at the flickering orange rift, _willing_ his brother to walk through it.

 _Don't you dare wait too long,_ he silently urged. _I'm trusting you. Do what you need to do but if anything happens to you I will kill you myself._

Behind him, the voices mixed and mingled into an annoying hum that boiled his blood. He ignored them all, his entire focus on the flickering rift. The flickering rift that his brother had yet to step through.

 _If anything happens to you…_

He never should have left him. Should have stayed. Should have stayed right there with him. Should have been back up for his brother and been there to help him with whatever he was doing.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam. Because he did. He just didn't trust the devil. At all.

It was taking too long. Dean shook his head. He wasn't waiting any longer. He took a step toward the rift, ready to step through it. And then he found himself with an armful of little brother.

Everyone in the room cheered as the rift disappeared. Dean ignored all of them. He shifted his grip until he had his hands on his brother's shoulders. It gave him opportunity to focus solely on Sam.

He looked alright and Dean's heart rate began to return to normal.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

He was breathless but alive and apparently no worse for wear.

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Sam was trembling ever so slightly but there was triumph and relief in his eyes and that told Dean everything he needed to know. That and the fact Sam had come through the rift alone.

"He's…"

Sam nodded. There was satisfaction in his tone when he said, "He's Michael's problem now."

Dean let out a deep breath of relief and squeezed Sam's shoulders. Sam offered him a shaky smile and everything was good.

The voices and cheers continued behind him and reminded him that they weren't alone. Sam nodded again and they both took a step back. Time to focus on the bigger picture.

Thirty minutes later and the bigger picture seemed to be nothing but a party. Which actually wasn't all bad.

Toasting to new friendships and alliances and celebrating survival and victory wasn't such a bad way to spend the evening. After what they'd just endured in freaky world, Dean decided they could spare some time for pure relief and relaxation.

Lucifer was in another world and Sam was safe in front of him.

So Dean cracked out the good liquor and hosted the first ever Bunker party.

The party lasted well into the wee small hours of the morning and Dean found himself enjoying the festivities. The fact that Sam seemed to have bounced back from his abrupt death and revival boosted his mood considerably.

Things began breaking up around two in the morning. Sam had been playing host and mingling with everyone for hours, looking so at ease that Dean could almost forget the misery that had been etched into his brother's features when he'd walked into camp a mere thirty-one hours ago. He could almost forget the image of his brother's throat being ripped out.

 _Almost._

Dean was talking to Bobby - which was both weird and wonderful - when Sam caught his eye. He was still smiling. Dean wasn't sure he'd stopped smiling since he'd gotten back. He was a little tipsy by now which was kind of funny. Sam grinned and waved toward the kitchen, two empty glasses in each hand. Dean nodded, hoping Sam was gonna make it to the kitchen without dropping the glasses or tripping over his own feet.

There were no crashes and Cas, who had been overseeing the kitchen clean-up, joined them in the library shortly thereafter.

Dean glanced his way. "Sam?"

"He said he was going to bed," Cas reported, taking a seat across the table.

"Good place for him," Bobby said with a grin. "Kid had a rough day."

Dean snorted, pouring another shot into his glass.

Rough day didn't begin to cover it but Dean didn't say anything else. Because Sam was alive and had looked happy all evening. Maybe the worst was behind them.

He really should have known better.

* * *

He stayed up for another hour talking with Bobby and Cas. It was almost like old times and left him melancholy as he found himself missing _his_ Bobby. Which sounded ridiculous but the world had recently become ten times more ridiculous so it wasn't as weird as it might otherwise have been.

Dean headed for his room figuring they could deal with the mess in the morning. Or in the afternoon. Or whenever.

"Might be a little drunk," he said to himself, putting out a hand against the wall when he found himself wavering.

Grinning, he straightened and started walking again. He was almost to his room but decided it wasn't much out of his way to check on his brother before he turned in for the night.

Sam's door was closed but closed doors had never stopped Dean before and a closed door was definitely not going to stop him right now. He tried the door knob and found it unlocked. At least that was something.

He pushed the door open quietly and stepped into the dimly lit room. The lamp on the desk was on, but Sam was sound asleep. He was on his side, one hand resting slack against the sheet, the other loosely gripping a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. Dean frowned. He crossed the room, intending to grab the bottle and set it aside. He nearly tripped over an empty beer bottle. Glancing down, he counted at least four empties on the floor.

"Sam, what the hell?" he asked softly, kicking the bottles aside.

He pulled the whiskey bottle out of his brother's hand and set it on the nightstand. Sam didn't move. Dean studied him for a long moment, heart sinking.

He'd known the very moment Sam had walked into the camp that something bad had happened. His initial disbelief at seeing his brother alive had given way almost instantly to full-blown concern. The expression on Sam's face had said it all and had turned Dean's stomach. Whatever had happened had been bad. Very bad.

Before he'd even wrapped his head around the fact that his brother was standing in front of him, Lucifer had strolled into camp like he owned the place and Dean had understood right then why Sam looked so completely shattered.

 _I should've known you weren't alright._

 _Who am I kidding? I_ did _know you weren't alright._

Shaking his head, he wished he'd taken a moment to pull Sam aside and talk to him before they'd gotten caught up in the celebration. Everything had happened so fast and there were so many people around and Sam had looked so _happy_ that Dean had convinced himself everything was fine.

Four bottles of beer and a bottle of whiskey did not add up to _fine._

He didn't know how long he stood there before he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he found Cas hovering in the doorway, frowning as he peered into the room.

"Dean?" he asked quietly, his gaze shifting.

"He's not ok, Cas," Dean said even though the angel hadn't asked.

Cas tilted his head, his frown deepening. "He seemed happy at the party."

"Yeah well, people who are happy usually don't drink themselves unconscious so they can sleep." Dean looked back at his brother, jaw clenching painfully.

"Perhaps he was simply continuing to indulge after the celebration."

"This wasn't him celebrating," Dean said without hesitation. "This was him drowning."

"He is in pain."

Dean wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question, but said, "Yeah. He is. I should have had you check him when he walked into camp. He said he was fine, but..."

"You should not have had to ask me." Cas stepped forward. "I should have taken it upon myself to ensure he was alright."

"Check him now?"

Dean stepped back when Cas nodded. He watched the angel press gentle fingertips against Sam's forehead. After a moment, Cas straightened and there was a terrifying mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes.

"What did you find?" Dean asked, an ache in the back of his throat making the words painful. "How bad is he hurt?"

"There were no injuries to heal," Cas said, looking back at Sam. His hands were fisted at his sides. "Lucifer healed him."

"Ok, then what? You saw something didn't you?" Dean stepped closer, his palms sweaty. "You saw what happened to him."

"Yes."

"Tell me." He was beginning to feel dizzy. The room seemed hot and either it was the alcohol or he was coming down with the flu. A chill ran through his body as he repeated, "Tell me."

"Dean…" Cas' voice trailed off. He was meeting Dean's gaze head on, but his posture screamed reluctance.

"Cas."

"I cannot tell you." Cas shook his head, glancing at Sam, then back to Dean. "I have no right to tell you. He did not consent to me examining him, let alone discovering what happened. If he needs to, he will talk to you."

"He won't talk to me."

"It is his choice."

"Damn it, Cas."

Cas closed the distance between them and rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. There was deep understanding and empathy in his eyes and the urge to punch him in the teeth began to fade.

Dean took a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. Exhaustion and alcohol were beginning to overpower worry.

"Dean, he is alive and safe and that is what you need to remember."

"I'm supposed to protect him," Dean said bitterly, fighting to keep his voice low. "It's my freakin' job and I let him get killed out there and then who finds him? The monster we supposedly left tied up back here."

"You could not have foreseen-"

"No, but I shouldn't have left him there." The anger boiled over and he stepped closer to Cas, seeing red. "You should have let me go after him. If I'd-"

"If you'd gone after him, you would both be dead. You know it as well as I do," Cas said, his voice raised, turmoil vivid in his eyes. "He was already dead, Dean! Had I hesitated or allowed you to follow, you would _both_ be dead and _two_ worlds would be in ruins!"

Some of Dean's fury began to ebb at the passion in Cas's voice.

"You must understand how difficult it was for me to make that choice," Cas said with a bit more restraint. "I was too slow, too weak to save Sam. The responsibility for what happened is on my shoulders."

"Cas-"

"No." The angel shook his head. "His death is on me and what happened to him after is also on me."

Dean took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Cas, this isn't about whose fault it is. I don't blame you, ok? I don't. It was a nightmare and yeah I was angry with you when you stopped me but you were right. You were right."

Saying the words aloud was granting forgiveness that he hadn't known he owed. The relief in his friend's eyes told Dean how much Cas needed to hear the absolution. The fiasco in the tunnel had wrecked all three of them and it was time to start putting things back together.

So he gave Cas a brief smile and patted his shoulder as he stepped forward. Sam was still fully dressed and Dean's stomach turned at the sight of his bloodstained jeans. Looking away, he tugged the half of the blanket Sam wasn't lying on over him.

"I can stay with him," Cas offered.

Dean shook his head. "Thanks, but I need you to keep an eye on Jack. And everyone else I guess. I may need you to do a breakfast run in the morning. We do _not_ have enough coffee for all these people."

Cas smiled. "I will ensure there will be an abundance of coffee in the morning."

"Thanks." Dean returned his smile, heart a little lighter.

"Will you sleep?"

Dean laughed quietly and rubbed his eyes. "Who knows. I'm exhausted enough that you would think I could sleep for a month…"

"But you are worried."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to remain here?"

"For a while, yeah."

Cas nodded, clasping his shoulder once more before walking out of the room.

After he'd left, Dean closed the door and sat down on the far side of Sam's bed.

He tugged at his shirt and wrinkled his nose. He was gross. Dried sweat and blood and dirt were splattered across his shirt and jeans. He needed a shower in the worst way. Should have at least kicked his boots off before getting on the bed because _gross._ Not that it really mattered considering Sam was just as filthy as he was and hadn't seemed to care about making a mess of his bed.

So Dean just crossed one leg over the other, adjusted a pillow behind his back, crossed his arms over his chest and fell asleep.

* * *

They slept for a solid three hours before Sam woke up screaming.

In all honesty, Dean hadn't intended to fall asleep at all. He'd intended to sit there for a few minutes and just regroup. Regroup and accept the fact that his brother was alive and well and not dead in another world with his throat ripped out. That's all he'd intended to do, but exhaustion had claimed him easily.

"Sam." Dean slapped out a hand, half-awake but well-tuned to his brother's distress.

Struggling up from slumber wasn't easy, but when the person next to you was shouting and fighting an invisible enemy it got a little easier. Especially when Sam's elbow connected painfully with Dean's chest.

"Sam! Damn it!" Wide awake now, Dean sat up and reached for his brother. Trying to avoid another hit, he caught Sam's left arm and shook him. "Wake up."

It took a few seconds before he came out of it, but when he did, he came out of it fast. One second, Dean was trying to hold him back to avoid a bloody nose or bruises. The next, Sam was on his feet and halfway across the room, back to the wall, eyes wide.

Dean's jaw dropped at how fast his brother had moved.

"Dean?" Sam asked, still pressed against the wall, chest heaving.

"Yeah." Dean's heart was pounding from the shocking awakening. He didn't make a move from where he was sitting on the bed in case Sam didn't believe him. "It's me."

"What...what are you doing?" Sam was looking around the room in confusion.

"You had a nightmare. I wanted to be sure you were ok."

"Did you sleep there?"

Dean nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his neck and said, "Yeah. I kind of fell asleep. Sorry."

Sam didn't reply. Apparently the shock had worn off and the hangover had kicked in because he turned an unhealthy shade of green and slammed a hand against the wall when he started to waver. Dean got up and crossed the room, ready to assist, but Sam held up his hand to hold him off.

"Don't."

"Sam, you're gonna-"

"I'm fine." He said it through gritted teeth. Hand still braced on the wall, he shot a bleary look at Dean and asked, "Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened. You hosted your own private after party. You don't remember the four bottles of beer and," he held up the whiskey bottle, "this?"

Sam went another shade greener and swallowed hard.

On a normal day, Dean would either tease him about not being able to hold his liquor or yell at him for being so stupid. Today wasn't a normal day, though, and Dean understood all too well why Sam had decided to self medicate with the liquor. Which was why he intended to be nothing but supportive.

"You should sit down," he suggested. "I'll get you some aspirin and-"

"I'm going to take a shower."

And then Sam was gone and Dean was left standing there, chest tight and stomach unsettled.

* * *

For the next few days Dean tried to be patient and allow his brother some time to himself.

Time to regroup. Time to adjust. To recover. To get back to sleeping.

None of which happened

Granted, things were pretty hectic and no one was getting much sleep.

Having so many houseguests created a world of challenges they'd never faced before and struggled to handle now. It was weird and Dean didn't like it at all, but he was learning to deal with the inconvenience. The survivors were all so grateful for the help that they were actually more of an asset then he'd expected.

They didn't have enough bedding to go around, but the refugees were grateful just to be in a safe place so no one complained about sleeping on bare mattresses. Towels were in short supply, but a woman named Catherine took over laundry duties once Sam taught her how to use the washing machine and dryer.

They had fresh towels every day.

Food was another challenge. Oddly enough it was Mary - _Mom,_ Dean reminded himself - who coordinated the grocery shopping and made sure the cupboards were always filled. She didn't cook, but she assisted those who did and they were eating better than they had in months.

Every day was filled with research and training. Bobby was making full use of the shooting range and even the refugees who hadn't been comfortable with weapons were now becoming proficient with firearms. Dean worked with them on self-defense and education on supernatural tricks and techniques. Apparently, the same supernatural creatures he'd fought for years also roamed the hills and valleys of the alternate world.

It was kind of comforting in a weird way to know ghosts were still haunting old houses and witches were still spewing their bodily fluids.

Sam was working double time teaching the refugees about their new, if temporary, home and continuing to look into solutions to their archangel problem. Because neither of them were convinced that they were finished dealing with the archangels they'd left behind. For one thing, the refugees were going to have to go back eventually which meant they all needed to come up with a solution.

No one seemed to notice that Sam had basically given up on sleep, except Dean. No one else noticed because no one else knew Sam as well as Dean did. Mary barely gave them the time of day and, even though she was back to living under their roof, she was more of a stranger than a mother. If Bobby had been _their_ Bobby, he would have known and would have been able to see past the illusion Sam was so good at keeping up. But he wasn't their Bobby so he didn't notice anything amiss.

Their lives had turned upside down and inside out when they'd returned from the other world. They'd never had so many people in the Bunker and the fact they were all refugees from an alternate universe only added to the crazy. The hectic, unfamiliar new daily routine kept everyone busy.

It also gave Sam a convenient way to both attempt to cover up how little he was sleeping and avoid Dean as much as possible. Which was why Dean decided it was high time for drastic measures.

His alarm went off at two am and woke him from a light doze. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before getting to his feet. He'd gone to bed fully dressed because he'd never intended to sleep through the night. He'd only set his alarm for four hours with the intention of catching his brother _not_ sleeping.

It was time to have a talk.

The halls were deserted and so was Sam's room. Unsurprising. Dean continued on to the kitchen. Empty. The library, map room, shooting range and garage were all equally deserted. He even tried the _Dean-cave._ Empty.

Hands on hips, he stood in the hallway, frowned and tried to think like his brother. Sam had always been good at hide and seek. So good, in fact that Dad had finally been forced to ban the game altogether after they'd legitimately lost Sam a few too many times.

The bunker was large enough that he doubted they'd found every nook and cranny. There were so many places Sam could hide. Dean was about to give up and go back to bed when he thought of one place he hadn't scouted out yet. In retrospect, he wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

He turned around and headed for the dungeon. In all honesty, it was a pretty dumb name for the room behind all those files, but it had stuck. There _were_ chains in there after all.

Walking into the the room, he found the entrance to the dungeon was closed. Not unusual. They hadn't given a tour to their new housemates and, even if they _had_ , they wouldn't have shown them the dungeon. Dean walked up to the hidden door and slid it open.

He was entirely unsurprised to find his brother sitting on the floor against the opposite wall with a stack of books beside him. Sam looked up from the book he was currently reading. He didn't look terribly surprised, either.

"Ever heard of privacy?" Sam asked, turning a page in his book.

"I just had to hunt your ass down through the entire bunker," Dean said, shaking his head. "You make me work that hard, privacy is a luxury you are no longer are afforded."

Sam sighed, setting the book aside and crossing his arms. "Why exactly did you find it necessary to hunt my ass down through the entire bunker?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sam. Just needed something interesting to do in the middle of the night." Dean stared him down. "How 'bout you? Important bit of research there that just couldn't wait until after breakfast?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"Cut the crap."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer.

Frustration sparked, but Dean crushed it down and asked, "What are you doing in here?"

"Reading."

"On the floor. In the dungeon. At two am."

"Yes."

"Something wrong with the library all of a sudden? Or your _bed_ for that matter?"

Sam added the book to the stack next to him and rubbed his eyes. "If I was sitting in the library, you'd worry."

"And you thought hiding from me would be a good way for me _not_ to worry about you?" Dean laughed humorlessly. "Sam."

"What?"

"Talk to me."

"What am I doing right now?"

"Avoiding the topic."

Sam leaned his head back against the wall and said, "I didn't know we _had_ a topic."

"You know damn well what I mean," Dean snapped.

"I really don't."

Dean heard the slightest hint of vulnerability in his tone now. Deciding to press his advantage, Dean sat down with his back to the wall opposite his brother and asked, "How much are you sleeping?"

The question caught Sam off guard and he wasn't quite able to disguise the guilt in his eyes. Eyes that were bloodshot and underscored in shadows. He didn't say anything which was probably all the answer Dean really needed. Even so, now wasn't the time to surrender.

"You're not sleeping." He wasn't asking a question and they both knew it. "You're running yourself into the ground. It's been a week, Sam, and you haven't slept more than an hour or two a night."

"What? You're spying...Cas." Sam clenched his jaw. "I can't believe you've had Cas spying on me."

"I don't _need_ Cas to spy on you. I just know."

"Dean…"

"Talk to me."

Sam sighed heavily. He closed his eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

"How about you start with the truth," Dean suggested gently. "Look, dude, I was there, ok? I had a front row seat to what happened back in the tunnel. Scarred for life doesn't begin to cover it."

He paused but Sam remained silent.

Knowing more had happened in that tunnel than what he'd seen, Dean continued cautiously, "I saw the look on your face when you walked into that camp. And then I saw him walk in behind you. Don't even try to sell me a pack of lies of how you're just fine because you know I'm not going to believe you."

More silence. Sam still had his eyes closed. He was tense. Strung out. But he was _listening._

"I know you're not ok, but we've got a long way to go until this mess is resolved and you burning yourself out by not sleeping is not gonna work."

"What do you want me to do?" Sam sat forward, eyes blazing; fire finally ignited. "You think I'm not _trying_ to sleep?"

Dean motioned around them and asked, "Are you?"

"Yes. Ok?" Sam ran his hands through his hair, then clenched them in fists. "I _am_ trying but since it's not working, I'm putting my time to better use."

"Why can't you sleep?"

All the fight went out of Sam and he just looked exhausted.

Dean pressed on. "It's a simple question."

"No, it isn't."

"Alright, so it isn't. We're already up. Why don't you give me the not so simple reason you can't sleep."

"Can we not do this?"

Biting his tongue, Dean nodded. Sometimes you couldn't win the war before you lost a battle or two. He pushed himself to his feet. Sam looked surprised but didn't say anything.

"I'll see you at breakfast," Dean said as he left the room.

Sam didn't respond.

* * *

Dean didn't manage a lot of sleep, but he did get some. He also had an inspiration. With any luck, maybe they'd _both_ get some sleep tonight.

He told Cas the plan and his friend was more than agreeable to procuring what Dean requested. Cas was the only one he confided in about the plan and he knew the angel would be able to manage the homefront for the night.

Sam avoided him all day which didn't surprise Dean at all.

It wasn't until around midnight that Dean put his plan into motion. The plan required a bit of subterfuge, but Cas played his part...adequately. Dean rolled his eyes. The angel still hadn't quite mastered the art of lying, but considering how tired Sam was, it gave Cas the advantage.

"I don't understand why it takes _both_ of us to go to the store," Sam complained from the passenger seat, staring at the list. "Besides that, why are we going now? It's the middle of the night. This is ridiculous."

"Hey, some people take their coffee seriously, what can I say?" Dean grinned. "And Catherine is out of laundry soap which means if we don't buy some tonight, tomorrow nobody will have clean towels. Ew."

Sam snorted, tossing the list onto the seat between them. He wasn't finished complaining though. "How did _we_ wind up on laundry soap duty?"

Dean turned the radio on and listened to him complain for a good ten minutes, then figured he might as well spill the beans. He was almost to the edge of town and as soon as he turned left instead of right, Sam would know they weren't going to the store to buy laundry soap.

"We aren't," Dean said out of the blue.

"Aren't what?" Sam stared at him, then glanced at the road. "Where are you going?"

"For a drive."

Instantly suspicious, Sam said, "And you lied to me for what reason?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't come otherwise," Dean answered honestly. "Look, in case you hadn't noticed, we've got a lot of people wandering around the Bunker."

"You're right. I hadn't noticed." Sam crossed his arms over his chest and looked away; already irritated.

"I need a break."

Sam was looking at him, but Dean kept his eyes on the road.

"There's too many people," he continued, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. "I needed a break. Needed to get out of there for awhile."

"Ok, but why didn't you just say that?" Sam asked, the defensiveness gone from his posture. "And why am I here?"

"You're here because you need a break as much as I do and I didn't tell you because I knew you'd cook up some excuse not to come."

"Where are we going?"

"First motel we find."

"Seriously?" Sam shook his head. "A motel?"

"Yes. A motel. Because we both need a decent night's sleep and I can't do that when I can hear a hundred people snoring at home."

"There aren't a hundred people and you grew up listening to people snore through motel room walls," Sam pointed out, ever logical.

Dean shrugged and said, "It's not the same. It's our _home_ and there's all these strangers in it and I can't get used to it."

"You're kind of antisocial."

"Dude, I'm sharing my _soap_ with strangers," Dean griped. "That's about as social as you can get."

Sam laughed and Dean relaxed to a degree. They didn't say anything for the rest of the trip, but the silence was comfortable rather than oppressive. He drove for a good hour before settling on a motel. Sam didn't comment on the long drive so maybe it was relaxing him as much as it was relaxing Dean.

Of course, he wasn't really surprised that everything changed when they were settled in the motel and ready for bed.

"What do you expect me to do with these?" Sam asked, staring at the bottle of pills Dean had tossed at him. They'd landed on the bed and he hadn't touched them.

"I expect you to take them," Dean said, putting a bottle of water on the nightstand and then getting under the covers of his bed. "I told you, we both need a good night's sleep."

He closed his eyes and waited for the explosion. He'd known he was taking a huge chance when he'd asked Cas to liberate some heavy-duty sleeping pills from a pharmacy. This would either work or it would annoy Sam so much he'd never sleep again just to be contrary.

Minutes passed in silence. He could hear the clock ticking and Sam's measured breaths but no movement. Either Sam was plotting to smother him once he was asleep or he was staring at the pills and preparing a lecture on why Dean needed to mind his own business.

Dean was almost asleep when he heard a heavy sigh and the sound of Sam picking up the pills. He held his breath.

"Aren't you worried I'll take all of them?"

"Do I need to be?" Dean asked. His heart was beating hard against his ribs, but he kept his eyes closed and pretended he wasn't terrified.

After a moment, Sam said, "You really should get a new hobby, man."

"Why would I do that when I've gotten so good at this one?" Dean tilted his head and glanced at his brother.

"You _have_ taken worrying to an art form."

Dean smiled and watched as Sam took two of the pills then turned off the light. Once he was settled under the covers, Dean closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone a lot better than he'd expected. With any luck, they'd both sleep through the night.

* * *

He was lightly dozing when he heard his brother say his name.

"Hm? What?" Dean blinked and struggled to read the time on the clock. Two am. Just over an hour since he'd closed his eyes. Shifting, he glanced at his brother and asked, "Sam?"

"He gave me a choice," Sam said softly, staring up at the ceiling.

"What...what're you-" Dean's heart beat against his rib cage painfully as he went from half-asleep to wide awake.

"He brought me back," Sam continued softly. "He said he was going to get to Jack one way or the other. With me or without me, you know? He had the vampires held back-"

"And he threatened to let 'em at you again if you didn't do what he said," Dean finished bitterly, the image vivid in his head.

"I knew either way he wouldn't let me die." Sam sighed. "Not for real. Not for good."

There was so much resignation in his tone that Dean went cold despite the fact the heater in the room was working perfectly. His throat ached and he couldn't form a single word.

"It wasn't really a choice and, either way, I was going to lose," Sam continued, still not meeting Dean's gaze. "I didn't exactly say yes or anything, but I thought maybe...if I was there when he got to the camp...I could help."

It sounded like he was freakin' _apologizing,_ and it turned Dean's stomach. He opened his mouth to give his brother his opinion on the topic, but then Sam went on and made it all so much worse.

"I thought that was all he wanted but it wasn't."

"Sam…" Dean swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and the rising dread that filled him.

"I couldn't stop him. I never could. I used to try. In the Cage." Sam sighed again. Heavier this time. Shakier. His voice was barely a whisper, and devoid of emotion as he said, "I wish I could say I fought him this time, but I couldn't. So I didn't."

He went silent for a long time and Dean waited, heart pounding.

"You asked what he did to me out there, but I think you already know."

Dean's mouth went bone dry and a wave of lightheadedness swept over him. It was good he wasn't standing because his entire body was numb. He'd asked that question back in the alternate world and Sam had refused to answer. He was pretty sure he _did_ know what had happened, but it would always be this nagging, terrible weight hanging over both of them if he didn't ask.

Maybe it was the sleeping pills or maybe it was finally the right time. Either way, Sam had opened the door now and they were both waiting to see if Dean was brave enough to walk through it.

"Sam?" His voice was rough, low. Speaking above a near-whisper seemed impossible.

"Yeah?"

"Did he…" He left the question unfinished. Couldn't bring himself to say the word aloud.

 _You're a coward._

"Yeah." Sam took a shaky breath, but his voice was steady when he said, "Yeah, he did."

A car door slammed nearby and Dean flinched like a bomb had gone off. It took a few seconds for his racing heart to calm and the rushing in his ears to die down. Blinking through the tears, he studied his brother.

Sam was still looking up at the ceiling, eerily calm.

Dean didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? How could he fix this?

"I'm ok, Dean," Sam said, closing his eyes. "Really. The first night back...was rough and I didn't know how...but now...I think I just needed to say it out loud. You know? Like Dad always said, right? You have to face the monster if you're gonna defeat it."

"Sam…" his voice broke and he wasn't even sure what he'd been planning to say.

"Promise me something."

"What?" _I promise I'm going to kill that monster for you..._

"Don't tell Mom, ok?" Sam whispered, like he was afraid someone other than the two of them was going to hear him. He shifted and looked at Dean for the first time; unguarded horror and anguish in his eyes. "Don't tell anyone. It was hard enough telling you. I...I don't want anyone else to know. Please?"

"I promise." Dean nodded. The promise came easier than the actual words did.

"Thanks. Sorry for keeping you up."

And then he rolled over like they'd simply been discussing what they were going to eat for lunch tomorrow.

Dean opened his mouth but again found himself speechless. What the hell was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to _do_?

Sam had apparently said all he was going to say, so there wasn't much he could do right now except try to quash the urge to vomit.

* * *

Sam slept like a rock the entire night without even one nightmare.

Dean didn't sleep at all.

He thought he would feel anger but he didn't. It was deep, agonizing sorrow that kept him up all night long. His tears were silent as he lay on his side and stared at his brother and wondered how the hell either of them had made it this far.

Wondered if this was the thing Sam wouldn't bounce back from.

After a few hours, he got up and opened the bottle of whiskey he'd brought.

* * *

It was almost eleven before Sam stirred.

Dean hadn't bothered with breakfast; his stomach had been rolling between the whiskey and Sam's confession. By now though, hunger was getting to him and he'd been about to leave to find lunch when Sam pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. Dean closed the newspaper he'd picked up earlier and waited. Sam rubbed his eyes, then glanced his way.

Despite a solid night's sleep, he looked tired. Maybe the pills hadn't been the best choice, but Dean couldn't find it in himself to care. At least he'd slept.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Sam got up and walked into the bathroom. The shower started and Dean hated himself for sighing in relief. He was a complete coward. He'd sat up all night and been sitting at the table all morning and still hadn't sorted out a single thing to say to his brother.

Scribbling a note, he left it on the table and hurried out the door to find something for lunch.

Sam was sitting at the table, head in his hands, when Dean returned with sandwiches from the deli up the street. Taking a seat opposite him, Dean unpacked the sandwiches and set one in front of his brother, then started to eat his own.

It only took a moment before Sam lowered his hands and reached for the sandwich. Unwrapping it, he said, "We need to get back."

"I know."

"You were right, though," Sam said. "It was kind of nice not listening to a hundred people snoring."

Despite the heaviness of his heart, Dean smiled. "I thought you said there weren't a hundred people."

Sam took a bite of his sandwich and didn't answer.

They finished their lunch in silence. Dean was shoving all the trash into a bag when Sam spoke up.

"I really want him dead."

Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask for clarification because he didn't need any.

"He's taken enough from me," Sam said, his tone unwavering. "I'm not giving him anything else."

There was a healthy measure of fear in his eyes - probably always would be - but there was a lot more. Determination. Strength. Resilience.

Peace.

Right then Dean realized that this _wasn't_ the thing Sam wouldn't bounce back from. In fact, he wasn't sure there was anything Sam wouldn't bounce back from. He would never be able to forgive himself for not protecting his brother. For not saving him from the devil. But maybe Sam could. Maybe he already had.

"We're gonna help those people. And we'll deal with whatever happens next."

"Yeah?" Dean cleared his throat, feeling a lot less confident. "You're sure about that?"

"Yeah, I am." Sam smiled. "I've got faith."

Dean couldn't think of a single thing left to have faith in, but he didn't say anything.

As if sensing his hesitation, Sam leaned forward and moved his hand between them. "I've got faith in _us_ , Dean."

Floored at his brother's confidence, Dean didn't know what to say.

"You wanna know why I've got faith in us?"

Dean nodded.

"Because we've never given up. What we've been through...hell, the Cage, Purgatory, _everything_." Sam shook his head. "We should've quit a long time ago. But we didn't. We pulled each other through all of that crap and we're gonna pull each other through this, too."

"Wow," Dean said, struggling to speak past the emotions clogging his throat. "Those sleeping pills must be amazing. Turned you into a motivational speaker overnight."

Sam's smile reached his eyes and somehow loosened the knot behind Dean's sternum.

"I don't know about the motivational speaker bit," Sam said, glancing down at the table, "but I...I think I'll use them...maybe for a couple more nights. They did help. So...thanks."

"You're welcome. Take 'em as long as you need to. Nothin' wrong with that." Dean took a deep breath and said carefully, "You know, if you need to...talk about... _it…_ if you need to, I'll listen. Anytime. Whenever. And...if you need to, I don't know, talk to someone else...someone better...I'll find someone ok? Whatever you need."

A bit of the confidence faded in Sam's eyes and Dean could see a hint of the vulnerability that was always so carefully guarded.

"I know. And...uh..it helped. Talking. Last night." Sam met his gaze briefly before looking out the window. "But I don't think I can talk about it again."

Dean nodded and repeated, "Whatever you need, Sammy."

"When did you get so sensitive?" Sam smiled.

"Shut up." Dean rolled his eyes. "Pack your crap. We got work to do."

Sam looked around the room and laughed. "Pack my crap? Dude, you didn't even bring our toothbrushes. We slept in our clothes."

"Huh." Dean had to admit he had a point. Even so…he crossed the room and grabbed the pill bottle off the nightstand and threw it at his brother. "There. Pack those. Let's go."

Pocketing the pills, Sam followed him to the Impala. They got into the car, then Sam asked, "You think anyone, other than Cas, even noticed we were gone?"

"Nope." Dean grinned and turned up the radio.

The drive back to the Bunker was relaxing and Dean knew he'd made the right choice in getting a motel room for the night. They both _had_ needed to get away. It hadn't solved many things, but maybe it had solved some.

He looked at his brother from the corner of his eye. Despite everything, Sam still had faith in them. Dean didn't feel quite as confident, but what he did feel was a burning anger that surged through his veins and lit fire to his very being. Maybe faith could sustain Sam, but anger was going to give _him_ the strength he needed to keep going.

Sam had been right. Facing monsters was the only way to defeat them. They didn't go away on their own.

If it was the last thing he ever did, Dean was going to end Lucifer.

The entire trip home, his mind replayed the same mantra.

 _Don't you dare touch my brother ever again._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! :)**

 **Probably will be posting the next chapter to _Fifty Miles_ next Monday. **

**Have a great week!**


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